


Selenophilia

by Pureblood_Muggle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 03:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20650103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pureblood_Muggle/pseuds/Pureblood_Muggle
Summary: Selenophilia - n. Loving the Moon, and finding it soothingly captivating.Written for 'Sing me a Rare: The Soundtracks' 2019 edition.





	Selenophilia

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sing Me a Rare: The Soundtracks.  
Much love to my Apha/Beta MaraudingManaged. I coudln't have done this without her! <3
> 
> Song Prompt: You're My Thrill, sung by Lya Lys for the 1933 movie Jimmy and Sally.
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of JKRowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this creation.

_ You're my thrill _ __  
_ You do something to me _ __  
_ You send chills right through me _ _  
_When I look at you 'cause you're my thrill

Blaise liked to think that he didn’t know when it started: this obsession with _her_. He felt dirty, disgusted with himself; he shouldn’t have been that attracted to her. She wasn’t his type - he preferred women equally as beautiful as he was. He recognised that it was a conceited thing to _ think_, never mind say out loud; but he knew he was vain and wasn’t about to apologise for being confident in his appearance. 

So why, then, had this unrefined creature enthralled him so? 

Blaise was in his 6th Year when he’d first met her. She’d arrived on bloody Harry Potter’s arm at Slughorn’s Christmas party. She was wearing an eye-watering reflective silver dress, accessorised with some absolutely abhorrent vegetable earrings. 

She was by no means beautiful in the classical sense, but she certainly drew _ looks _ \- mostly looks of ridicule, his own included. It had been difficult to hide his smirk at the ridiculous ensemble although, for some unfathomable reason, it had actually _ suited _her. Coupled with her angelic hair and mesmerising doe eyes, she looked like a sprite caught in the human world. 

She intrigued him as no other girl had... 

Blaise had learned her name by way of eavesdropping on Slughorn when he’d introduced her as Miss Luna Lovegood: daughter of the ever-eccentric Xenophilius Lovegood, the Quibbler’s editor-in-chief. 

_ Luna Lovegood. _

The name rang a bell, and he’d recalled with dismay how some of the slightly younger students in Slytherin had made up a song about her: 

_ Loony, Luna Lovegood _ __  
_ Loony through and through _ __  
_ Loony, Luna Lovegood _ _  
_Crazier than you!

He’d never known her, never thought to put a name to a face, but he could see now why they’d tease her. She moved entirely to her own beat as she danced at the party, and he admitted that Luna did look a _ tad _ loony doing that. The ‘crazy’ became obvious a while later when he realised that she was having an honest conversation with a vampire; a creature by the name of Sanguini that Blaise had been introduced to earlier, and had escaped from just as quickly with a shudder.

Her eyes, though, were something _ else_. He’d often heard prattle and nonsense about eyes being the windows to the soul, but Blaise had never before believed it to be true. At least, not until she’d made eye-contact with him across the room and he’d felt utterly exposed. Naked. _ Enchanted _. 

Those wide, blue eyes which he could inexplicably, gladly drown in. 

When he returned to the Slytherin dormitory that evening - after an entertaining side-show featuring a gate-crashing Draco Malfoy - he was so haunted by the memory of those eyes that he felt the need to throw a silencing spell around his bed and draw the curtains so he could get himself off. 

It was shameful, really, how this innocent looking girl could make him desire her so and without any effort at all.

_ You're my thrill _ _  
_ _ How my pulse increases _

Each and every morning, after waking with a raging hard-on and having a furious wank, Blaise thanked Merlin and every other deity he could conjure that Luna was in the year below him. It minimised his exposure to her and, he hoped, would rid him of this obsession. If it didn’t, he was sure he was going to slowly go insane.

Every time he saw a crown of fair, flowing locks in the corridors, his stomach lurched. When he sat down for dinner in the Great Hall, he fought himself not to search for her at the Ravenclaw table. He was fucked if he knew why she interested him so much when he clearly shouldn’t have given her a second glance. 

Then she invaded Quidditch in a fashion only Luna could. The first time he’d heard her dreamy voice, he couldn’t help but laugh to himself. Of _ course, _she would haunt the hallowed grounds of the Quidditch Pitch. Somehow, somewhere, someone was laughing at his suffering. 

Her commentary rarely revolved around the game minutiae, instead pointing out silly cloud shapes or making up ailments she thought were beleaguering the players. Yet at least he didn’t have to see her, and he could secretly enjoy… her. He could admit to himself that that was what he was doing: _ enjoying her _. Her quirky comments, and quick wit, not to mention her dreamlike voice. He could see himself having conversations with her that weren’t dull; certainly unlike the ones he’d had with many other girls of his acquaintance, who were mostly preoccupied with the latest fashions. In fact, he’d allowed himself to enjoy every moment, replaying each word in his mind, until later that evening when Draco confronted him in their dormitory out of the blue. 

“Zabini?” The blond asked with what Blaise was certain was forced casualness, appearing to busy himself with selecting a clean uniform before going out to do whatever he’d been up to in the darkest hours of the night.

“Yes?” Blaise responded, instantly on his guard. Friends they were decidedly _ not_, which was only compounded by the irrefutable fact that Draco had been incredibly difficult to live with that year. There had been a time when they were _ friendly _ before it had become clear just how involved his family were with the Dark Lord. That friendliness had decidedly cooled to the point that they were merely acquaintances - and even then it was only because they happened to share a bedroom and bathroom. Blaise had absolutely no intention of involving himself with either side of the war. He didn’t have the stomach for the torture, rape, and murder of Muggles or Muggle-borns - but he couldn’t be seen to fight _ for _ them either. He certainly didn’t have the stomach to be on the receiving end of the curses he wouldn’t be willing to dish out.

“Be careful with Lovegood,” Draco spoke quietly, though, for the moment at least, they were alone in the dormitory. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Blaise raised an elegantly manicured eyebrow, grateful that his dark skin helped conceal a blush; apparently, the mere mention of her name was enough to send his pulse racing.

“Oh, nothing, I’m sure,” Draco shrugged and opened his trunk, rummaging for something. “But.. just be more careful about staring at her. It won’t do you any favours if you’re seen to be lusting after a Potter crony.”

He was glad that Draco was facing away from him, selecting an impressive array of washes and gels to use in his evening ablutions, because Blaise was sure he’d lost his composure for a second. When he couldn’t think of what to say and the silence stretched between them, Draco turned back to him - expression pinched despite his light tone. 

“She’s a funny one, isn’t she? I suppose I can see why you _ would._ Just… watch yourself.” With that, he stood, nodded once at Blaise, and disappeared into the bathroom. Slouching back on his bed with an explosive exhalation, Blaise resolved to forget Luna for his own sanity. 

If only it had been that easy. His eyes sought her of their own volition and more often than not, Blaise found that hers were already trained on him. He was slowly going ‘round the bend with feelings he had no idea what to do about, or even how to name.

At the end of that year, when they stood in disbelief around the dead body of Albus Dumbledore and Blaise knew that everything was going to go to shit, he couldn’t stop himself any longer. Forgetting her had been impossible, so he sought her with his eyes, feeling a strange need to make sure she was unharmed. He found her easily at the same moment Potter fell to his knees beside the Headmaster. She looked fragile, like a porcelain doll, shocked into stillness. His stomach lurched and for the first time in his life he felt the urge to run to shield someone; to protect them. 

Instead, he gritted his teeth, balled his hands into fists, and raised his wand along with the others. 

_ I just go to pieces _ _  
_ _ When I look at you 'cause you're my thrill _

Blaise spent the summer in Italy with his mother, well away from the turmoil. He considered not going back, but his mother insisted - she was busy seducing her next husband and didn’t have time for the _ petty dramas _of a Dark Lord.

When word got out that year that Snape was Headmaster and it had become clear that the Dark Lord was in control of Hogwarts, Blaise had considered staying away from the school regardless. He’d rather use his ample allowance to live away from that hellhole than subject himself to forced, faux-indoctrination as a Death Eater. He’d been lying if he said he wasn’t anxious about the new staff, even though he was relatively sure he’d remain under the radar as a Slytherin pureblood. That, and the knowledge that Luna was going to be there and he had missed seeing her was what made him return to Hogwarts. He needed to see her, to make sure she was alright.

Midway through September, however, he truly wished he had stayed in Italy. The new regime at Hogwarts was worse than he could ever have imagined; the first time he was required to practise the Cruciatus Curse on a First-Year girl who looked so fragile he was afraid it would kill her, he barely escaped punishment himself. His curse wasn’t strong enough - because of course, it wasn’t. The thought of it turned his stomach.

It was that night that Draco approached him again. Blaise had gone up to the dormitory early, unable and unwilling to join in a game of Exploding Snap with the other 7th year boys as if it was just a normal day in the life. 

“I can help you,” he whispered, shoulders tense. Blaise let out a snort and closed his eyes - only to regret the action immediately as nausea flooded him. He couldn’t shake the image of the little girl shrieking in pain on the floor before him, begging him to stop.

“You don’t_ really _ like using Crucio, do you?”

“We’re not all like you, Draco,” Blaise sneered. Draco didn’t flinch or deny the statement.

“No, I suppose you’re not. But you _ will _ have to make it convincing or you’ll end up the next little project for the Carrows.”

Blaise said nothing but waited for him to continue. He folded his arms across his chest and did his best to glare at Draco.

Draco rolled his eyes at Blaise’s hostile silence. “You need to distance yourself from your actions. Practise Occlumency. Put your feelings in a box that no-one but you can open, and only when you want to.” He paused, hearing Blaise’s quiet scoff, and his next words were dripping in acid. “I don’t fucking like it either, Zabini. Contrary to popular belief, I do not enjoy torturing anyone - but I’ve no sodding choice. You still have a chance to come out of this with your sanity half intact. Look,” Draco sighed, running a hand over his face, exhaustion hanging in heavy shadows below his eyes as the fight left him, “Either take my advice or don’t; I genuinely could not give a single fuck. But don’t think you’ll be spared just because you’re your mummy’s pretty little boy - her latest husband’s vault won’t buy you safety.”

Blaise was taken aback by Draco’s unusually tactless rant, the bluntness of it, and he nodded jerkily. “‘Alright. Tell me more.”

Draco started teaching Blaise Occlumency that night - and at any moment they could steal away from oppressive eyes. It didn’t make torturing children any better, but it made it easier to play the part and conceal his contempt for the Carrows. It helped him save his own arse - so that he could keep a clear head and protect _ hers._

_ Hm _ __  
_ Nothing seems to matter _ __  
_ Hm _ _  
Here's my heart on a silver platter_

On the tense Hogwarts Express journey back to London for their Christmas holidays, Blaise and Draco shared a compartment with Theo, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Pansy, oblivious to the atmosphere, was fawning over Draco in her typically sickening fashion. How Draco didn’t flip at her obsessive clinginess was beyond him; it was clear to everyone_ but _Pansy that Draco just about tolerated her attention, and certainly didn’t reciprocate her affections. Blaise’s lip curled as she draped herself across Draco’s lap and pulled his arm across her waist, and Theo sneered as the girl closed her eyes, blissfully unaware of their mockery.

Just as she began to snore, the train lurched to a halt so violently that Pansy fell flat on her face, colliding with the floor of the compartment with an audible thud and an indignant screech. Blaise would have laughed if the corridors and compartments around them weren’t filled with screaming, followed shortly by shouts of outrage and terrified sobbing. He froze as their doors were wrenched open and a pair of Death Eaters, hooded and masked, scanned their faces - obviously looking for someone. They left without a word, slamming the glass door so hard it rattled in its frame.

When the train moved again, silence reigned until Pansy broke it. 

“Who do you think they were looking for? Another mudblood? Surely they didn’t think _ Potter _ would be on the train?”

“Who knows?” Draco said in a clipped tone. 

The compartment door slid open again, revealing Neville Longbottom. For a moment, he stared at them, hate in his eyes.

“They took Luna,” He spat, looking straight at Draco. “Tell me where they took her.”

None of them had ever heard Longbottom speak that way before. Firm, unwavering, full of ire. The bumbling boy from years past had turned into someone who wouldn’t be underestimated. They’d seen a bit of it when he was the first to refuse to practise the Cruciatus on a First Year. Even so, it wasn’t respect they felt for him. Their little rebellions against the staff cost everyone. Punishments were meted out across the board. The Carrows thrived on it. Pansy snarled at him while the other boys glared. 

“How should _ I _ know where they took her? And _ why _ would I care?” Draco drawled, cutting off any remark Pansy was about to make. Blaise forced himself to breathe, applying techniques Draco had shown him during their Occlumency sessions. Luna was taken. By Death Eaters.

“Your _ family _ was part in kidnapping her you bloody bastard. I swear if anything happens to her-” Longbottom actually growled before he wrenched himself away, slamming the door shut as he stormed off. Blaise surreptitiously wiped his clammy hands on his trousers. 

“Isn’t it cute how he loves Loony?” Pansy grinned. “Who cares about that weirdo anyway, good riddance.” 

That was the first time Blaise wanted to go against his upbringing, and he actually had to sit on his hands so that he didn’t swing for a girl._ I care about her, _ he wanted to scream at Pansy. Instead, he gritted his teeth and stared out the window, concentrating on keeping his composure.

For the whole of Christmas break, Blaise couldn’t stop his worry and fear for Luna creeping up on him. He wished he could somehow make himself forget about her. It wouldn’t be wise for him to enquire as to her whereabouts, never mind her well-being, unless he wanted to draw much-unwanted attention to himself. It wasn’t as if he’d be able to rescue her anyway. - and even if he could, what would he do with her? Hide her? Run away with her? Be killed alongside her? No, he would have to wait and see. It was agony, not being able to do anything. Did he even deserve her? Never before had he concerned himself with that question. He’d taken everything for granted.

When he boarded the Hogwarts Express at Kings Cross Station at the end of the holidays, Draco slipped a piece of parchment into his hand as he passed. Blaise closed his fist around it and sought out the nearest loo on the train; only once he had locked the door did he dare look at the parchment.

_ Lovegood is alive - she’s held captive at the Manor. They’re using her to blackmail her father, so she’s safe as long he complies. I don’t need to tell you to destroy this once you’ve read it, do I? _

Blaise sagged against the loo’s wall, relief racing through him. She was a_ live_. She was at Malfoy Manor. The sudden, burning desire to apparate to her and ensure with his own eyes that she was truly well surprised him. She’d got under his skin in so many ways, and he’d yet to actually speak to her directly. He _ knew _ it wasn’t healthy - it was utterly nonsensical. He rubbed a hand over his face after setting the note alight and vanishing the ashes for good measure. It took him another ten minutes to regain his composure; to feel sure enough of himself and his Occlumency mask to join the others on their journey back to Hogwarts.

The year dragged on. How the absence of one student he’d never personally interacted with could leave such a gaping hole was beyond him. For the next couple of months, he inhaled the Prophet with equal parts hope and trepidation: hope that he wouldn’t read her name - because no news meant she was still alive - and trepidation at reading the Lovegood name in any capacity, always fearing the worst.

When Draco returned after Easter break to quietly inform Blaise that Luna was indeed still alive, and not only that, she’d escaped Malfoy Manor alongside Potter, Granger, and Weasley, he was so relieved that he’d pulled Draco into an awkward impromptu hug. He hoped she would lay low now and stay away from Hogwarts. 

“Thank you,” he bit out after he’d let go of a stiff Draco - who clearly hadn’t been accustomed to being hugged at all, least of all by a fellow student who was not his friend. 

“Don’t,” Draco swallowed heavily. “It’s not because of me that she escaped.” He looked away, clearly angry with himself and the world, so Blaise wisely said nothing. There really wasn’t anything to say.

The next time Blaise saw Luna, his heart stopped dead before beating so fast he was sure he was going to have a heart attack. Hogwarts was in uproar: Potter had returned; the Dark Lord was making demands; and McGonagall was ordering Pansy to leave first. And there- there! Luna stood in the middle of it all, wand drawn, both serene and ready to fight anyone who’d stand in Potter’s way. She looked like a warrior queen, the literal calm before the storm. It was that moment that he knew his heart was hers, on a silver platter. 

He scrambled to get his mask back in place but struggled when her eyes met his across the Great Hall. He was lost in her wide gaze, the smile that crept over her face, her eyes never wavering from his. She nodded at him as if agreeing to something - though he wasn’t sure what that might have been. There was a commotion around him and he felt himself being swept along in the crowd of Slytherins, losing sight of her. Panic rose up inside him, amongst other feelings he wasn’t sure he even had names for. He wanted to run back to her but it wouldn’t have been wise; she’d likely hex him, and if not, someone else would’ve taken a shot at him. He’d kept the wrong company after all - he was the _ enemy_, so far as they all knew.

Instead, Blaise simply hoped she stayed safe and didn’t do something stupid. 

The next couple of days were agony. He’d let himself be led out of Hogwarts like a bloody sheep. Followed the herd of Slytherins, no questions asked. He knew they were now fighting. He knew there would be casualties. He hated himself for hiding in his mother’s London townhouse. Just - not enough to go back into the fray. It wasn’t that he was a coward, not _ really_, it was just that this war... it wasn’t his. He never asked for it, he never wanted it. Granted, he doubted any of the others had either, but he’d managed to keep his nose clean thus far and he wasn’t going to risk his life now. Blaise knew it was unforgivable, really, to consider himself so much more worthy than everyone else, though he felt paralysed all the same. 

Blaise couldn’t sleep and found it difficult to eat. His every waking thought was consumed with Luna Lovegood. Her eyes, the determined stance she had adopted in the Great Hall when everyone stood to defend Potter. Blaise’s gut churned at the thought that her wide, expressive eyes might have lost their shine, might never be seeing the world through their own unique lens again. 

On the third day, the Prophet released a special edition; brief and to the point. The Dark Lord was vanquished once and for all, killed in a one-on-one battle with Harry Potter. A list of casualties that would haunt him for the rest of his life followed, yet a stab of guilt reared its ugly head when he was flooded with relief at not seeing Luna Lovegood listed there. He hoped it meant she was as safe and as well as any of them could be after the battle. 

Another list showed Death Eaters that were captured or dead, and yet another of Death Eaters still on the run. He noted that amongst the captured, all three Malfoys were listed. While Draco had never truly been a friend of his, he hadn’t forgotten the blessed reprieve Occlumency brought him, or that he’d relayed information about Luna. Draco had never appeared to enjoy her perils either, and Blaise suspected that he had indeed been in over his head. 

Relieved that he wasn’t in the wanted list, he poured himself a large firewhisky and stared at the bare wall opposite. Where was Luna now?

_ Where's my will? _ __  
_ Why this strange desire _  
_ That keeps morning higher?_

A week after the Battle of Hogwarts, Blaise walked into the Leaky Cauldron to pass through to Diagon Alley. As he made his way through the crowd he gritted his teeth at being jostled by the people who were still celebrating Voldemort’s downfall - he’d rarely seen the pub this busy. Cursing under his breath at yet another elbow colliding with his ribs, he pushed through a group of revellers and suddenly found himself face to face with eyes he wouldn’t ever forget. He forgot to breathe. 

“Blaise Zabini,” Luna’s dreamy smile widened. Heat shot through him as her arms reached out to hug him. It took him an embarrassingly long moment to come to his senses, then he pulled her to him roughly, not heeding who might see them. 

“Luna. Luna,” Blaise breathed her name into her hair over and over again like a prayer. She was here, unharmed in his arms, and his heart and magic were singing. He could scarcely believe she was real. 

When they eventually pulled back, she blinked up at Blaise. “You’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time, Blaise Zabini.”

He choked a laugh. “You have no idea.”

Luna took hold of his hand and squeezed it. The jolt that raced through him nearly suffocated him. He gasped at the sensation as he realised she’d side-along apparated him away from the noise and bustle of the pub. 

“Luna?” He asked, dazed, as she let go of his hand and walked away through a door down the corridor. Utterly helpless, he followed. “Luna, where are you goi-” Blaise’s voice caught.

Luna stood in a bedroom, placing her wand on the mantlepiece of a small fireplace above which there hung a gilded mirror. The curtains were drawn shut, the fire the only light in the room. She turned to him and he watched, mesmerised, as the shadows created by the hearth chased across her face.

“You’ve been dreaming of this for a long time,” Her dream-like voice floated through the air, and Blaise swallowed. “Come closer.”

He followed her Siren’s-call words and moved, unable to resist the lure and his desire to be near her. She reached for his hand and laced her pale fingers through his dark ones. “So beautiful,” she murmured and brought his hand up to her cheek. 

“You are,” he whispered. She smiled and lifted her free hand to cup his face. Her eyes were honest, large, innocent; he could drown in them from this distance. Blaise nearly jumped out of his skin when her lips collided with his, so enthralled was he with her eyes that he’d never realised that she’d risen up on her toes to kiss him.

Sweetly, her lips pressed against his for long seconds, their eyes held each other’s gaze. Then her hand slid around to his neck and pulled him down further. He thought he felt her smile for the merest fraction of a second before her tongue darted out to taste his lips. He gasped in surprise and she took full advantage, deepening the kiss and letting her eyes fall shut. 

Blaise reeled her in, burying his hands in her hair and holding her close. He’d been dreaming of kissing her for a long time; she had been right about that. _ This _kiss though - it surpassed all of his fantasies. He couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop. It was all-encompassing, robbing him of all rational thought.

One kiss turned into the next. Blaise then trailed away from her mouth, tracing a searing track with his lips along her jaw, down her throat and onto her shoulder. While one hand firmly remained entangled in her long hair, his other roamed over her back. He let his fingers play along the line of the zip holding her dress together. She surprised him again when she nipped at his neck.

He couldn’t stop the raw noise that came from deep within his throat. Blaise found the top of the zip and slowly undid it, Luna breathing a low “Yes,” into his ear as her dress pooled around her feet. 

“Merlin.” Blaise stared at her, unable to keep his eyes from roaming Luna’s petite form; from her small, but perfect breasts down to her toes. His body’s reaction to seeing her naked was immediate; blood boiling in his veins, travelling lower. 

“You really have thought about this for a long time, haven’t you.” It wasn’t a question, and as he watched her climb onto the large four-poster and lie back in the middle of it, he had a strange feeling of dejà Vu. 

“Luna,” he whispered hoarsely, “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked with a coy smile. “I’m seducing you.”

Blaise was mesmerised by her earnest gaze. ‘Are you now?’ 

“But of course,” she spoke as if it were the most normal thing in the world, for her naked in front of him. Luna held out a hand and beckoned him closer, and he slowly walked over to her before pausing beside the bed. 

“Why?” He couldn’t quite believe the scene unfolding before him - the moment too surreal, too much like his dreams.

“Because you need this.”

“I do?” He did? Merlin, he _ did _.

“You do. Now come - it’s awfully lonely being the only one naked.” She stretched on the bed, not even a little self-conscious about her state of undress, and his fingers faltered on the buttons of his crisp black shirt. Luna moved to kneel on the bed and reached out. “Let me help you.”

Mesmerised by her pale hands, he stood and watched her undo each button of his shirt, one by one. When she pushed it down from his shoulders and pressed her lips to his chest, he rose from his stupor and hastened to undress the rest of the way. As he straightened up from taking off his last sock, he hesitated again; eyes roaming over her beautiful, perfect form. 

Luna was back on the bed, waiting patiently for him to join her. He did, slowly lying down next to her, bracing himself on his left arm and using his right to trace idle patterns across her stomach. She reached up and caressed his cheek. Closing his eyes, he used what was left of his sanity to question her further. “Why do you think I need this?”

“Closure.”

_ Closure _? He wanted to ask what she meant, but she pulled him down into a searing kiss. Words were superfluous and utterly impossible as she took his breath away, keeping his mouth thoroughly occupied. 

Luna touched him almost reverently, anywhere she could reach. His head, shoulders, chest, back, waist, and oh Merlin, when she finally reached his erection he thought he would explode at first contact. He needed her to stop or he’d embarrass himself like the virgin he hadn’t been for quite some time.

Blaise moved over her and began tracing kisses down her body, worshipping every inch of skin in his path, relishing the mewling noises she made when he reached particularly sensitive spots. He was glad that she seemed to enjoy this because while he’d had sex, and enjoyed it in the past, he’d never actually gone down on a girl before. 

This thing that Luna sprung on him, it felt different. Sex had been a means to an - enjoyable - end, but this, it felt intimate, fuzzy, warm, good - feelings he didn’t know could actually go with the act. 

When he reached his destination he hesitated for a split second, wondering how best to go about it. He glanced up at her to see her looking at him with wide eyes, her fingers playing with her nipples. His breath hitched and her scent edged him on; he gently parted her with his thumbs and kissed the place he’d only ever touched with his fingers before. 

In response she bucked her hips off the bed, pushing herself into his face. He took it as an encouraging sign and began to lick and nibble at her. Her mewling became louder, breathier. She hissed a low ‘yes’ when he dared enter her with a finger. His heart was about to break out of his chest. He felt almost proud to have elicited that reaction from her. He added another, slipping in and out of her in a steady rhythm.

Luna’s hands reached out to him and pushed at his head a little and he looked up at her. She motioned for him to move and he followed her silent instructions, covering her small frame with his larger one. Her legs parted easily and while one of her hands pulled him down to kiss her, her other reached down to position him. He hoped he’d last long enough. It had been a long time since those fumbled few times back in 5th year.

Blaise hadn’t ever understood what a turn-on it could be to know that the girl he was with could taste herself on his lips, but now want and need burned through him hotter and brighter. He braced himself on his elbows and pushed into her without breaking the kiss, swallowing any noises she made greedily. For a moment he stayed that way, pressed deep inside her, kissing her, willing himself not to finish just yet. She seemed to understand as she kept her own hips still, savouring the moment. It was almost overwhelming, the rush of heat, the race of his pulse, her scent, the feel of her around him. 

When he thought he had himself under some semblance of control, he began rolling his hips, slowly at first, his mouth travelling down to her neck, breathing her in. Her hands were all over his back, then his backside, pulling him in with every thrust. 

“Luna,” he squeezed his eyes shut in concentration, his words a stuttered gasp. “I can’t… I’m... Luna…”

Blaise felt her hand move down between them. He chanced a glance and realised she was helping herself along. Fantasies, feelings, he’d harboured for years came rushing through him, his heart skipping a beat and it sent him over the edge. He pushed into her one final time, holding himself deep inside as he came with a shout. He could feel her pulsing around him, her mouth open, her head thrown back into the pillow. 

As his ragged breathing returned to normal he was conscious that he was likely crushing her slight body with his. He withdrew from her and moved back to her side, his arm across her middle, one of his legs still between hers. Luna smiled gently, blissfully up at him.

“Thank you.”

It was like a bucket of ice water. Whatever he thought she would say after what they’d just shared, _ thank you _ was not what he expected, nor what he wanted to hear. He stopped tracing lazy patterns on her ivory skin and stared down at her face - she was still wearing that dizzying smile. 

“I’m glad it was you,” she patted his cheek. 

“What?” He couldn’t quite form coherent sentences yet. His brain felt fuzzy. 

“My first time. I’m glad it was you.”

Blaise stared at her. He heard the words, yet he hoped he’d misheard her. She giggled. 

“It was wonderful, Blaise. You did very well.”

“You should’ve told me. I wouldn’t have-”

“Exactly - you _ wouldn’t _ have. But you did, and I’m glad. I needed you just like you needed me.”

“For sex?” Of all the things to come back to haunt him, it was the indelicate, bragging boys’ talk in their dormitories where they bragged to each other how many they’d had - knowing full well that most of it was utter bullshit, exaggerated in order to not look bad in front of others. The thought was accompanied by a swooping sensation in his stomach that wasn’t pleasant at all. 

“No, silly. Though sex was a wonderful way to do it. I meant in order to feel alive. To feel connected,” She laced her fingers with his. “This was meant to happen exactly as it did. You felt it, too: the pull.”

He’d felt it alright. The pull she’d had over him since the first time he noticed her. This enchanting, fae-like creature with eyes that weren’t just windows to her soul, but portals to another plane of existence. 

“I still do.” He surprised himself by admitting it out loud. It was true; he still felt enthralled by her like never before, and the fact that he’d just shared the most intimate of moments with her in ways he hadn’t thought possible solidified his longing. 

“I know,” Luna sounded sad now, her eyes strangely distant. “There are great things in your future, Blaise Zabini. Your aura changed colour. The Nargles have left, too.”

“Nargles?” He wanted to laugh at her whimsy. On impulse, he kissed her, then stared down at her with a grin. “Whatever they are, I’m sure I don’t miss them. What colour is my aura?” 

“Violet. It speaks of nobility, arrogance, cruelty. Or at least, that’s what it was. Now it’s paler, more of a lilac with a tinge of acceptance, calm, maturity.”

“I’ve lost my nobility? That can’t be true. I am very noble.” He raised an eyebrow at that. She laughed throatily...

“Humble, too,” Luna quipped before explaining more. “You haven’t lost any of those traits. They just… shifted around a little. You’re calmer now, more accepting of the world around you. Don’t you feel it?”

He did. The restlessness he’d lived with throughout the years of the war felt like a distant memory. In its stead, there was a sea of calm inside him, a steady pulse without the worry in his veins. Blaise no longer felt disgusted with himself for wanting Luna; instead, she was enticing and made his magic sing. It was clear as day that his preconceptions before the war were oh, so very wrong.

“All thanks to you,” he murmured, kissing her neck, her shoulder. 

“It will stand you in good stead in your future,” Luna yawned. “I’m tired now. I think I might fall asleep.”

He hummed and kissed her lazily. Blaise, too, could feel sleep tugging at him. Just before he succumbed to slumber, he murmured, “Did you… y’know… use protection?”

“Mhmm, of course,” she mumbled back, already lost to her rest. 

When Blaise woke up, he was disoriented for a second. Slowly, the previous night came back to him and he smiled, turning to his side to face Luna - but the bed beside him was empty. He sat up, eyes darting about the room, yet finding no trace of her anywhere. No clothing, no shoes. Nothing that suggested she’d ever been there at all. 

She was gone. 

On the mantelpiece, where she’d left her wand the night before, he found a short note. He read it over and over, wondering why he still felt strangely tranquil. He gazed up into the gilded mirror and found he was smiling despite himself. Relaxed.  
He would treasure this memory forever, and he would heed Luna’s words to him. 

_ Thank you for all that you are. Forgive those who had no choice, forgive yourself, and forgive me for leaving. _ __  
_ You will see that this is the way it must be. _ _  
_Always, Luna

_ When I look at you _ __  
_ I can't keep still _   
You're my thrill


End file.
